


don’t be so serious

by unethicalcoffee



Series: wild women don’t get the blues [2]
Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unethicalcoffee/pseuds/unethicalcoffee
Summary: It isn’t the first time. Later that night, with her hand in her green brown hair, Luz will look at her and wonder. But she won’t ask.
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Series: wild women don’t get the blues [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917418
Comments: 3
Kudos: 104





	don’t be so serious

The smell of old books and fresh nail polish. Creases on pages, where she’s folded the corners down. The lines of her hands. Notes in the margins, calluses and small yellow stains on the tips of her fingers.

Amity breathes. Tries to. Focusing on the details grounds her a bit. Takes her away, makes things smaller and easier to take in. 

She looks up. In the mirror. What was she doing again? She tries to remember the face. Yellow eyes, dark circles. A thin serious mouth. A pale face, pale green hair. There’s a whisper of brown root at the top of the head, and if she puts her fingers to the throat she feels a pulse. 

It catches, again. Something in her chest. Like a lock that won’t open. The key fits, but maybe she can’t turn it or hold it or maybe she forgets what it is or what it does. That’s when she leaves, through the window.

It isn’t the first time. Later that night, with her hand in her green brown hair, Luz will look at her and wonder. But she won’t ask.

Drinking makes her think maybe she can force the door open. But she never can. She thinks of her mother, how she doesn’t see her tobacco print fingers or dark moon eyes, or smell her poison ashen clothes. Her mother is bigger, in her mind. Drinking makes her think that drinking will make her smaller, make her disappear.

A boy offers to buy her one. He’s charming, like her brother. She has no interest in boys but she is interested in freedom. 

Bartenders make her think of her father. Their stern, concerned look. Their silence. Never enough concern to speak, she supposes. Don’t want the inconvenience.

At dawn Amity’s swimming head will push her into herself. Before she vanishes Luz will take her hand. 

In the bathroom, a girl tells her she’s beautiful, her watery eyes like her sister. Amity holds her hair back while she throws up. She looks in the greasy mirror at the thin serious line of her mouth.

The girl goes to the boy at the bar. They are familiar. Angry, but loving. The bartender looks at them, stalwart and silent. He looks concerned, and does nothing.

Amity dances. Blue pink purple hands and hips and heads. In the smoking room she kisses the girl from before, or someone else. She tastes like peach schnapps. She wonders if her mother ever kissed peach liquor lips or knows what she does in the dark. She knows. It doesn’t matter.

On the pavement, things are cold and stark again. She tries to breathe. Focus on her yellow fingertips and the lines of her hands and her black nail polish. 

At dawn, Luz will smile at her. Amity will think how full her lips and how soft the curve of her mouth. 

“What?” she whispers.

“Nothing,” says Luz. “Rest your head on me. If you want to.”

Amity wants nothing more. She can breathe, here. And Luz smells like peaches.


End file.
